The Vladivostok Incident

Chapter 15

Vladivostok

"Welcome to the Port of Vlad… Vladi… Vladsto… how the hell do you pronounce it?"

"Vladivostok," Petras managed to correct. He was personally terrible at Russian, and more often than not he mispronounced names of cities and territories.

"That's it!" Antoine smiled.

Antoine was seemingly in a better mood. The majority of the turnaround had more to do with the alcohol in his system rather than a change of heart. Rex didn't like the idea of anyone on his team drinking, but it's difficult to prevent alcohol from showing up when traveling in the cargo cars. "Alcohol is the best friend of the working class," Antanas had scoffed.

Petras rolled his eyes. Normally, it was he who got drunk and needed assistance walking and talking, but that time, it was he who was doing the helping. Shelton chuckled at the obviously annoyed Petras, and continued to wave his broken arm around.

The train station at the Port was packed. Families and friends of the traveling soldiers were there, as well as many patriotic well-wishers. It was decorated with colorful banners and flags seemed to be flying at every corner. Much to the dismay of many present, only half the flags were Eurasian, the rest were Chinese. It was, after all, occupied territory.

They had thrown a scarf and hood over Antanas to keep him hidden, because certainly someone would have noticed his features. Only it wasn't that someone recognized him, it was that he recognized someone else that nearly got them in caught.

"Valeriya?"

Petras was about to shout, "Vladivostok!" and correct Antanas, but he stopped short with his mouth wide open. Antanas stood a few feet away from a young woman dressed too elegantly to be anything but aristocracy. Shelton stopped waving his arm, Antoine stopped his drunk babbling, and time seemed to stop for a brief moment on that platform. Petras swallowed hard.

She smiled beautifully at Antanas. Oh, yes, she was a beautiful young woman – the men noted this in a hurry – but she didn't carry a smile in her eyes. Perhaps, just a tad, her deep brown eyes light up for Antanas.

"Now's not the time to be flirting, Herr Fedorov," Shelton growled quietly. He wouldn't admit it, but the thought of being caught in the middle of a group of soldiers and flag waving nuts frightened the pants off him.

"I'm surprised to see you here, Ton," she said to him. "Let me guess, it's a secret?"

"I hope Lev is treating you well," he said. His tone gave away nothing. There was no emotion attached, not even true hope. It was a rehearsed line, one he spoke every time he saw her.

"Of course," was her automatic response.

Lev, Shelton and Petras ran the name through their memory banks. It sounded familiar.

"You still have no children?" he asked.

She caught the hint, of course; she could catch even the subtlest of hints from him. What was visible of his hidden face displayed a sense of worry. His princess was missing, and he yearned to know if she was well. Valeriya was more than happy to inform him, "A healthy and lucky young girl."

Relief washed over his face. That's all he wanted to hear.

"Hey! You!" a soldier shouted. Antanas was grabbed by several uniformed men. "You have no right to approach Mistress Fedorov!"

Shelton, being the hothead he was, moved to assist Antanas. Fortunately, Andrei was quick to stop him, and probably avoided what could have been a catastrophic confrontation.

Antanas wiggled himself free. The soldiers were not violent or looking to start trouble. They let loose of him. Antanas gazed straight into Valeriya's eyes and gave her a reassuring look. He bowed fully and said, "Dasvidanya, Madam."

"Keep your Russian silent!" a soldier ordered.

Antanas backed away and disappeared into the crowd. He ended up right next to Andrei, who was quick to help him walk. After all, Antanas still had that nasty injury on his thigh. Andrei pulled the aristocrat rather harshly and hurriedly; they needed to quickly get off the platform in case something like that happened again. They'd made it that far, so there was no reason to throw away the effort.

As they left the platform and followed in Rex's footsteps, Petras said to Antanas, "You seemed awfully chummy with her."

Antanas caught the unasked question. "She's my brother's wife," he said.

"Pretty dumb of you to approach her and speak Russian," Andrei lectured.

Antanas wasn't in the mood for a lecture, especially one coming from a measly factory manager. So he merely snorted at the comment and remained silent. Small chatter between Petras, Shelton and Antoine was to be the only noise they would have amongst themselves until they were away from the ceremonial hullabaloo and far away from the train station. The further they got from the train station, the worse conditions around them got. The buildings went from modern, clean and operating, to old, filthy and falling down. The streets were littered with trash and grime, the people became less friendly and dirtier, and the atmosphere took a turn for the worse.

In other words, they went from the lavish tourist and aristocrat district to the working class district. It was there that Rex finally came to a stop at an old inn which was in worse shape than the one Andrei and Lena stayed at in Urgal. Rex didn't even pass a word to the man behind the counter, but received keys for many rooms free of charge. For Andrei and Antanas, they had been hyperaware the entire trip of all the oddities and had realized Rex's network of allies must have stretched all of Eurasia and perhaps beyond. For less interested people like Shelton and Petras, the thought never crossed their minds.

Rex did a masterful job of splitting the group up like always; he made sure the factory workers stayed amongst themselves, and the soldiers stayed with soldiers (save for Antoine, who was too much of an outsider to fit in with the soldiers). What resulted was a rather crowded room for Petras, Shelton, Andrei, Antanas and Antoine. Lena disappeared into the same room as Rex and two others. The factory workers had made the correct conclusion that those four were the leaders of their ragtag group.

Petras threw the nearly passed out Antoine onto the one bed in the room. Andrei, who was helping Antanas, gave Petras an annoyed glare. In the end, Antanas was set down on the floor. He grimaced slightly as he was led down and jumped at the impact.

"I really need to get you a doctor," Andrei sighed.

"And I really need something to drink!" Petras added.

Antanas ignored Petras expertly and said, "We are at the Port now. I promised Shelton a new arm, and I wouldn't mind getting some care myself."

"Problem is since we're at the Port, you're kind of a target," Andrei said.

"I know that," Antanas snapped. "The regional hospital has a doctor named Mokashev. Just tell him I sent you. He'll fit Shelton with an arm and treat me here."

Andrei nodded and without a word grabbed Shelton and dragged him along. The door closed quietly behind them. The sound of a door down the hallway being opened followed not long after. Naturally, they went to inform Rex of their plan to leave the inn. If they disappeared without a word, he probably would have had a fit.

Petras felt way out of place, left alone in a room with a passed out Antoine and a very grumpy Antanas. To begin with, he never really cared for Antanas. They were separate species, not just from different classes. One of them was born into fortune with many around him who took care of him; the other was born into poverty and was forced to take care of others. It's only natural that such a difference in childhood would cause such different adults.

Antanas could sense Petras's uneasiness. Petras never was very good at hiding his feelings. The aristocrat wasn't one to entertain, and certainly not when in the foul mood he was in at that moment. What resulted was a clash of egos and awkwardness. It was oddly silent for a great long while, with only an occasional snore from the passed out Antoine to warm their ears.

It was the complete opposite for Andrei and Shelton. The two were secretly glad to have a moment just to themselves. They were like brothers, as many in the working class grew to be. They looked out for each other and cared for each. The disturbance known as war had halted their friendship for the sake of survival; now, they were out on the town like two old chums. Together they enjoyed the sights of the cultural hub known as Port of Vladivostok. They took in the sounds and excitement of the many parades and ceremonies happening at that very moment.

In fact, it was a parade that delayed them. It wasn't the largest they would encounter during their stay, but for Shelton, it was the first time he had ever seen anything like it. Gawkers and flag-wavers lined the street as uniformed men passed by elegantly; it was one of three scheduled parades for the coming soldiers. Accompanying the soldiers were the mounted guards, floats promoting various "patriotic" businesses, and of course the loud and proud Eurasian Guard Military Band. Mingling amongst those marching in almost an unwelcomed way were members of the Chinese military.

Shelton stood like a young child as the parade passed by. Andrei enlightened him, "They have these things whenever something important happens. The army uses any chance to show off those fancy uniforms and possibly recruit youngsters."

Behind the marching infantry, who looked splendid in their laced jackets and pickelhaube, rode the mounted guards, who looked even better with their sashes and shakos. They were the last to pass Shelton and Andrei, and in the very rear was a horse with no rider. It, too, was overly decorated.

Shelton wanted to comment, "That's where my tax dollars go?" but instead opted for the better worded, "What's the point of a horse with no rider? And all that junk on it?"

"It represents the soldier who will ride no more," Andrei answered. Shelton gave him a confused look, so the manager quickly explained, "For the soldier who has died."

"Mein guter Kamerad!" a voice sang out in perfect German. Andrei and Shelton turned to the origin of the voice. Standing behind them, clad in full-dress uniform, was a middle aged soldier with a s**t eating grin on his face. "You are Sir Andrei Tsarev, are you not?"

Andrei smiled; he remembered the man in front of him very well. "John Kruger," he correctly guessed. Although he hadn't seen his fellow soldier in over a decade, he was easy to spot. His graying hair was covered by his pickelhaube, but his square jaw, hard cheekbones, small eyes, tilted ears and the stubble that covered those unmistakable features were perfectly visible.

"Ah, it's now Gustaf. Sounds a bit more German, wouldn't you agree?" he grinned.

Gustaf extended his hand to shake, which Andrei accepted warmly. Andrei naturally migrated away from the crowds as Gustaf had always been a tad bit too proud of his German heritage, and to be spouting such nationalist and racist words in a crowd of rowdy Eurasian and Chinese loyalist was not the best idea. Besides, they were sent out to get a doctor, not to mingle with old friends.

Gustaf followed them anyway. "Boy, to run into you all the way out here. Why, last I heard you were a factory manager. In fact, yeah now that I think about it, you were in Tynda!" he rambled. "Lucky of you to escape, they say that anarchists or mercenaries wiped the town out."

"Wait, what?" Andrei interrupted. "I thought it was the Chinese…"

"No, no, no!" Gustaf laughed. "The Chinese? Why would they want Tynda? The factory, I suppose, but they wouldn't destroy it. Talk about a waste of resources."

Shelton listened in with mild interest. He was curious about Tynda, even if he wouldn't admit it. He knew every street, every small shop, where all the cracks on the main street were, the name of every girl he passed on his way to class, and even which streetlamps needed fixing. Despite the wishes of a person, they tend to become attached to places because they are familiar. Humans are afraid of change. At least, that's what his psychology professor told him.

"Anyway," Gustaf continued. "It's just too bad you're out of the service now. We were just in St. Petersburg before coming here, and everything is completely burned to the ground. I suppose anything west of that is about the same."

Andrei held a deep frown on his face.

Gustaf apparently didn't notice, as he immediately went back to talking. "It's unfortunate your son is in Paris," he said. "It's terrible there. Yes, I'm afraid that Eurasia will certainly crumble into bits if something doesn't bring us together soon. I'd much rather have the whole bloody country fall. If you ask me, I'd rather just be a German. Damn proud one, at that. Einigkeit und Recht und Freiheit fur das deutsche Vaterland!"

The chattering Gustaf broke off from the group once they reached the hospital. He left with a hearty laugh and said, "Your son, you will see him stand proud as a Russian, and you will be proud of the man he's become."

Andrei scoffed once he and Shelton were inside the hospital's lobby. "The man he's become?" he raged. "Dmitri's still a boy! Not even twenty yet!"

Shelton chuckled quietly to himself. Sure, the entire trip from Tynda to the Port was one hell of a ride, but it was all worth it just to see Andrei explode over something seemingly so insignificant. The only thing that prevented him from laughing fully was the cute nurse that passed by them in the lobby. She caught Shelton's eye; all she noticed was a blood and dirt covered factory worker with a missing arm.

"Are you alright?!" she screeched, afraid that he had been in an accident.

Shelton didn't hide his confusion when he managed to say, "I'm… fine?"

While those two had to deal with the chaos of explaining who sent them, why they were there, and what they needed all without revealing they were working with American mercenaries, Rex and his henchmen were figuring out exactly how they would go about destroying the docks.

He and three others – Lena, Marc, and a blonde haired American everyone called "Haystack" – stared at several maps that were thrown about the room. One was a simple street level map, another was of the underground sewer system; some of them focused on how to get to the dock, others focused on what to do once they were there.

Talks went along fine and it was agreed upon that they would have to trust Andrei and his workers entirely to carry out the plan. Rex couldn't babysit them once they were actually at the docks. Lena was the one who suggested they trust the workers. For Rex, this presented a problem. He had no idea of knowing what had happened between Andrei and Lena during their trip to Urgal. Andrei was a problem that kept knocking Rex on the back of his head. The factory manager was a former soldier and very openly opposed to their plan. What if he had somehow talked Lena into his way of thinking?

Still, Lena didn't seem like a woman who would change so quickly for such a boring man. When Rex asked her what she thought of Andrei, she answered plainly and honestly, "He would be a valuable asset if we could convince him to help us." Rex listened and believed her; aside from Marc and Haystack – whom he trusted more by default because of their gender – she was his most trusted and respected assistant. She had the ability to relay information about not only the enemy, but potential traitors amongst the group. Fortunately for Rex, they never had to deal with traitors.

Despite all of that, he still kept his eye on her. She left the room with Rex's approval, just as Andrei and Shelton returned with a young doctor and a pretty nurse. Before the door closed, Rex watched as Andrei grabbed her and pulled her along. He frowned; maybe it was Andrei he should be keeping his eyes on, he thought.

Andrei wasn't trying anything "unacceptable;" he just had to ask Lena if she had any knowledge of Dmitri. She had to, he convinced himself, since she seemed to know everyone else in the whole damned country. It was a spur of the moment action to grab her and pull her inside the workers' room.

The young doctor accompanying them was Dr. Mokashev, the one whom Antanas requested. Shelton had been fitted with a brand new arm – not a used one like he was forced to work with since his original accident. The operation took literally no time at all. The previous doctor at Zeyskoye Hospital, with the help of Antanas, had sent all the necessary data and had set up an appointment with Dr. Mokashev "at Antanas Fedorov's convenience."

Antanas smiled when he saw Dr. Mokashev, and the young man returned the gesture. "I'm amazed you're still alive," the doctor said as he knelt next to Antanas. "Everywhere you look, journalist, council members, citizens… all of them are spreading rumors about you."

"When is that different from any other time?" Antanas joked.

"Some of them say you're dead, just like Cicero," the doctor said, referencing the deceased eldest Fedorov brother. "The stitches on this wound are quite excellent considering the materials available," Dr. Mokashev mentioned offhand.

"That would be my boy, Petey!" Shelton cheered. He wrapped his new arm over Petras's shoulder and grinned madly.

Dr. Mokashev ignored him. While at the hospital, Shelton was an annoyance, as he continually flirted with the nurse or rambled about something completely irrelevant. "They're also saying you've ran away with a girl," the doctor said to Antanas. "It looks to me like you've been kidnapped by a bunch of ruffians."

"Oi, what's that supposed to mean?" Petras scoffed. "Just because we're working class and not fancy like you two doesn't mean we're automatically ruffians."

"I wasn't talking about you, young man," the doctor corrected rather politely. "It's just based on how old this injury is and our current location –"

"Our current location is the working class district," Petras pointed out.

"That's enough, Petras," Andrei jumped in.

"In all seriousness old friend, I'm worried," again Dr. Mokashev said talked to Antanas. "Why, I have half a mind to get you out of here. Your life is in danger and with Lev in charge not much good is happening. He makes a better mobster than a bureaucrat, though I suppose there isn't much of a difference. I've already lost one friend because of those damned reformist, don't make me lose another."

Dr. Mokashev stood and patted Antanas on his shoulder. He passed a quick glance at Andrei; the doctor had sensed Andrei was a good, fair man and he wanted to make sure he was leaving Antanas in good hands. When he couldn't find any malice in Andrei's eyes, he turned to leave. He stopped at the door, however, and turned around.

"Almost forgot," he said with a small chuckle. From his coat pocket he produced an envelope. Without a word he handed it to Antanas and disappeared out the door.

Antanas looked at the blank envelope curiously. His leg was already feeling better. No matter how good technology got, at least half of the recovery has to do with the doctor, and no one is better or friendlier than his pal, Dr. Mokashev. Proof of that was the swift, painless execution of his treatment to Antanas's thigh wound. Now, he could concentrate on things that really mattered.

First of all, he needed to find out why Rex kept him for so long. Secondly, he needed to found out how to get the hell away from him. Lastly, what the hell was in the envelope?